You know: the Terry Pratchett series of books which transform real-world politics and social commentary into a fangtambyoulush melee of mayhem and magic.
The Librarian is a member of a small, elite group of senior librarians, who have the knowledge and ability to travel through L-space. The very strict rules that members of this group are pledged to enforce are:
- Silence.
- Books must be returned no later than the date shown.
- Do not meddle with the nature of causality
Why do I compare myself thusly? Well, it's my preferred option over being held up to others by father as being like a) Herta Bothe, concentration camp guard, or, b) Hattie Jacques' matron from the Carry On films.
So, I like peace and quiet, clean and tidy surroundings, clean and tidy bodies, and talking the plain facts of things. Maintaining any of these requires a level of discipline. This may seem regimented when one has simply let everything go to hang. At least the move from Bothe to Jacques is a progression of some worth. Could it be he is beginning to see the humour and benefit of routine and rhythm in life? I shall be mentioning the Librarian and the 'rules' and see what kind of conversation that might spark.
It's just lucky for him that I have the strong and sturdy constitution of an orangutan and the thick skin to let the barbs fall away! The ability to laugh at oneself, and to giggle at other's attempts to dislodge the good humour is an essential tool in the box for any carer!!!
We're rubbing along just fine. I'm physically shattered but will be returning to The Hutch next Monday for 10 days of recovery time.
Meanwhile, I do have to make a dash across and back today. The small matter of voting. I have never missed using the privilege afforded me to have my say since I turned 18. Despite having to leave one coast to travel to the other side of the land to mark a paper, I do not intend to break my record! It comes under point number three of the L-space rules!!!
